


Weighted Dice

by Humanities_Handbag



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Big Brother Bog, Bog being a great big brother, Bog pining for a fiery Princess, Dawn being a sweetheart, Sunny - Freeform, Sunny and Dawn being adorable, Sunny examining his life choices, Weighted Dice, as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanities_Handbag/pseuds/Humanities_Handbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always thought that hugging was a super power of sorts. I swear, the right hug from the right person can turn a day around. And Dawn will always seem like a person who knows this. And uses it to its full ability.</p><p>Sunny just needs to realize that.</p><p>In which Dawn is a sweetheart, Bog is a big brother and Sunny examines his relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weighted Dice

At first Sunny thought Dawn was merely  _eccentric_. Granted, their first meeting hadn’t really been the  _best_  one. She’d been far too outgoing, and he’d had no say on what their relationship was to be, if it was anything at all. 

A tiny child, barely the size of a grain of sand, she’d toddled up to him and enveloped him in a hug that he’d hardly seen coming. 

“Hewwo,” she’d chirped, finally releasing him. “My name is Daw’. I hugged you! So you’wa my new fwiend.” 

Sunny, just as small as her (and just as sprightly) had crossed his arms over his tiny chest and glared. “No!” He’d stomped his foot with all the force of an earthworm on a rampage. “I dunwanna!”

“Too bad!” And she’d poked him in the chest, head held high as she’d dictated the apparent laws of a universe he’d had no knowledge of being a part of in the first place. “I hugged you. So you  _gotta_  be.”

Sunny the Elf had promptly burst into tears. 

But after that had ended, and she’d hugged him a few more times, both to soothe his quick breathing and to bind their strange and forced blood pact enacted upon him without any permission or consent, he was perfectly happy with the situation. 

“You’wa Fairy!” He’d ooh’ed and ahh’ed over wings that wouldn’t work for some time, but still fluttered a pretty rhythm across her back. 

“Mmhmm! An’ you’wan Elf! I always wanted ta meet an’ Elf!”

“An’ I aways wann’ed ta meet a Fairy!” 

Dawn had clapped her hands in glee, bouncing on her toes .“Let’s be fwiends f’wevor!”

“Okay!” Said Sunny.

And that had been that. Simple. Neat. No fuss. All punctuated with hugs that pressed the scene together like the most perfect of bookends. 

It was the day Sunny and Dawn became friends.

It was also the day that Sunny would fall in love with Dawn. 

After some time, the two began to grow up. It was bound to happen, of course. Sunny learned of prejudice against his people. He’d seen the way that Royalty was treated. He’d watched the borders find their peace in silence and gaped in horror at Fairies who had broken rules of Dark Forests, coming back without wings, dirtied, forever broken. 

He’d hardened because he’d had to. He’d calloused as much as his hands, toughening a skin that only one blonde Fey seemed powerful enough to break through. A blonde Fey he’d never be able to hold tight or kiss or  _love_  in the way he wanted to love. For that had come with the odd tightness in his chest and the looks and the sneers and the questions. And from the first time he’d decided he had loved her, he’d also known he couldn’t. 

Dawn, on the other hand, had not hardened in the least. Though nothing seemed to bring her down from the clouds her head always found its way into. And maybe her skin was too thin- or perhaps it was thicker than his for the way she stared at the world through eyes wide enough to drink in the stars. But he merely thought it was her being  _optimistic_. 

“One day, Sunny, I’m gonna go down there and give all those grumpy Goblins huge hugs!”

“… I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dawn.”

“Why not! You’re grumpy sometimes, and my hugs make you feel  _all better_!”

“Well,  _yeah_. But I’m an Elf.”

“Uh huh?”

“And they’re  _Goblins_.” 

“ _Yeah_?”

“And… and, I dunno!” His arms beat the air, hands splaying dark and frantic. “Look, it’s just the Dark Forest! And you know what everyone says to us  _all the time_ -”

“I know, I know!” The small Fairy still stood his height, and from there he could see her eyes roll heavenward. So close in their proximity, he could count every fleck of ocean burrowed away in the blue of her eyes. But it wouldn’t be that way for long. She’d grow; soon from the way she’d been complaining endlessly about the aches in her joints, and those perfect, gorgeous eyes would be so far away. He mourned them for a moment, daring himself to blink as they found his own again, tracing and remembering the way that even in frustration they looked upon him with warmth. “No one goes into the Dark Forest,” she mimicked her father, pitched voice deepening. 

“And comes out alive,” he finished wisely, gulping when he looked over her shoulder towards the row of primroses sitting innocently, shifting back and forth in the cooling breezes. 

“And comes out alive,” she parroted with a sigh. Knees folding over on themselves Dawn sank to the ground beside him, looking towards the trees that shadowed the land, gnawing at sunlight with fearsome thorns. “Doesn’t it just seen so  _unfair_  though?”

“What does?” He plopped down next to her, immediately snatching up a few of the small white flowers that grew in bunches at the grasses firm roots. Pulling them up he fiddled with the petals before twisting their lithe stalks together. “That you can’t go in?”

“No! That I can’t  _try_  and  _reason_  with them!”

“You sound like your sister.”

She scoffed. “Yeah right. Marianne’s always  _politics this_  and  _politics_   _that_  and _Dawn doesn’t Roland look so dreamy today_.” She let out a heavy breath of air, leaning back on her elbows. Hair like sunlight caught the sky and shimmered, and Sunny, eyes flicking from his current project, held back a croon. “She wants to be able to work on border stuff. I just want to give people  _hugs_! I mean, what if that’s all they need! What if there’s a big bad Goblin out there and all he needs is a little love!”

“I don’t think that’s what they need,” he muttered sourly, eyes peeling away from the circlet of white, trying to decide whether or not to add yellow. Then again, the nearest yellow flowers were either back towards the palace or the border leering at them from a few yards away. He glared at it, but let it win. It looked better without yellow anyway. 

From it’s unmoving place, Sunny swore the forest smirked. 

Apparently no one was fond of cowardly elves who weren’t worthy to sit besides Fairy Princesses. 

Hell, if her father found out…

Dawn had defended her friend before from the contemptuous looks even the King tended to give from time to time when he thought neither were looking, but there was only so far the rope could stretch, and he was waiting for the snap. And when it finally did, he was sure the echo would ring in his ears for days, moths, years, to come. His fingers stalled against the last few knots of twisted root, and he chanced a look beside him.

The Fairy he was friends with - _the Fairy he’d been in love with since the very beginning when she showed up with a smile and a curtsy and curiosity and a binding hug sending him into a fit of gross sobbing_ \- would grow up. As would he. Because wasn’t that just natural. 

She’d change. She’d already had her first crushes, and he’d had an earful to last a lifetime when it came to Benjamin’s hair color and Lyrus’ dreamy eyes and god knows who’s perfect stature and body and the way they made her laugh. Soon she’d tower over him and be tall enough to send a shadow to reach someone else. Soon she’d realize how beautiful she was, and how her smile shimmered and how her heart was warm, and know just how to use it all to do what she needed. To get what she wanted.

He wasn’t sure if he’d change, though. Eleven years old and he’d already reached his peaking height. Young and he’d already known where his place was in life. Growing up and he already realized just who it was who’d stolen his heart.

“Sunny?” Her hand waving in front of his face snapped him away, and he looked down at his hands. In his anxious fit he’d twisted the poor circlet. Most of the flowers had fallen off, and the stalks were already wrinkling. “You okay?”

“Um…” he held up the ruined thing. “I made you a crown.”

She stared at it long and hard before throwing back her head, letting out soft peals of giggles. And his grimace of an apology began to creep into a smile. “Sorry… it got sorta - _heh_ \- ruined.”

“Don’t be silly!” She chirped through her fit, snatching the ugly piece from his fingers and plopping it atop her head where it drooped sadly. “It’s _perfect_!” 

In a show of defiance against how imperfect it really was, the thing atop her head chose that exact moment to lose what flowers it had left, fluttering to the ground, leaving her hair bound by a band of crumpled green. 

And yet Sunny couldn’t help but think, looking at her -doe eyed and ridiculous- that it couldn’t have fit better on anyone else, and for a moment she’s a Princess instead of a small girl sitting by a border with broken stems on her head and an Elf at her side. 

He wants to tell her that. So badly does he wish to profess the sun and all it’s majesty with words that could show her  _how_. Instead he says, “You know, soon enough Marianne is gonna be married to Roland, and we wont even be _allowed_  to go across that border.” Because politics always did their part to steer away from love.

It worked wonders.

“No way!” She waved him off, beginning to pluck flowers of her own from the ground. “Marianne’s gonna go into that forest and find their King and they’ll talk it out! You know how happy she always is! They’ll be the bestest friends and I’ll go in and say hi all the time and we’ll fly and sing together and-”

“Hug every Goblin. Yeah. I know.”

She beamed, glad he’d caught onto her wicked plans. “Exactly! And then, once Marianne is married to her true love and is best friends with the Goblin King, we’ll work together to make the Elves lives better too!”

He stalled, blinked, furrowed his brow. “Dawn… what are you-”

“Me and Marianne! We brought it up the other day! She says when she’s Queen and Roland’s King they’ll work together to make Elves lives better! Roland doesn’t know that yet. I mean, he doesn’t even know that they’re gonna get  _married_  yet. But she says that  _after_  she finally get’s him to notice her an’ take her to the next dance then they’re basically together forever! And then they’ll get married and we can do all of that!” Her fingers moved up to fiddle at the crown, adjusting it royally. “I’ll talk to you to find out what can be changed! It’ll be  _great_!”

“You guys really wanna help? I mean… they’re always telling us it’s fine.”

“Oh please. When has it  _ever_  been fine. You see the way daddy treats you!”

“He’s the King! He just doesn’t want his… I dunno, little girl, near an Elf or something.”

“Yeah, well, he’d better get used to it, because you’re going to be my best friend  _forever_.” And then she chose that exact moment to lean forward and hug him tight. A binding promise from years ago- friends forever and ever. No matter what he did. For the fates had sealed them when she’d put her arms around his body and tug him close. 

He could do nothing but sink into the feeling of it all. For such a fragile thing, her grip was firm and strong, and she was always the first to let go, waiting until the right moment to unclasp and step away. So he let her, moving closer until everything around him was  _her_  from the warmth and the brightness to the way he could catch the scent of lilacs on his clothes for days after. His sigh tickled her shoulder and she chirped. 

“See! I told you! Sometimes a hug makes everything better until you can fix a problem!” She let go, and he reluctantly kept himself from snatching her back.

“I don’t… it’s more  _complicated_  then that, Dawn.”

“No-!”

“ _Yeah_! It is! I mean, I think your sister’s right about this one!” He wound his lips in guilty explanation. “This is about politics. And… and maybe there’s even more than that. You don’t  _know_. What if… what if there’s laws and all these troubles with borders or someone breaks something or…”

“Or maybe,” she pressed back, “it  _isn’t_  that complicated and a good hug would work it all out! You don’t know!”

Sunny was fairly sure that he did know, but at that moment he couldn’t do anything to crush the look on her face. So he slumped forward, counting to ten. “Yeah,” he finally said slowly, giving it all up for the girl he loved, hoping that this alone would show her how much he… how he truly… how she’d never know- “Maybe it  _is_  that simple.”

“Of course it is! It’s always been! You tell people what’s what and the worst that can happen is they say no, right!” And she went back to her flowers, babbling happily about what kind of crown she’d make him. 

He decided right then and there that to be in love was like rolling dice, really. And you were never sure if you’d get what you needed from it. But being an _Elf_? That was already entering a world where the dealers knew how to push you aside. And being an Elf in love with a Fairy Princess? 

It was the same as working with loaded dice. 

You were bound to lose from the start. And it could never be as simple as a hug in a forest. 

It’s the last time that it happens that Sunny decided that she  _was_  eccentric. And yes, sometimes she was a  _bit_  too optimistic. And sometimes her head was far enough into the clouds to forget how to breathe. And her feet rarely touched the ground. And he was worried that her wings weren’t the reason she was so flighty. 

But more than that, she was  _right_. 

Somehow, and through whatever strange miracle found itself in her presence, she was  _right._

A letter started it all. An urgent one arriving at his door worrying over paper about the state of a slight woman who had gone over a border that day to visit her sisters lover for tea.

He tripped over yet another root in his haste, sprinting as fast as his short legs could carry him beneath ferns and over rocks littering the ground. Not that he’d really had to run at all. Granted, he was sure there must have been _something_  out for blood in the depths of this godforsaken place. And most of its denizens, to be fair, were still rather peeved at him and his past actions.

… perhaps then running was a good idea.

He’d gotten the message a little over a half hour before sunset. Something about Dawn. Dawn being hurt. Written in quick, even penmanship, the letter had been sent by the Bog King’s mother herself, ending it all with an apology that her son “dunderhead that he is” would most likely refrain from contacting the Elf at all.

And though the thought of meeting with the Bog King again was not entirely pleasant, especially since their last introduction had come with a stolen potion and a nights worth of migraines, Sunny couldn’t truly blame him for his reluctance. A King’s job was to protect his Kingdom, just as it was a Queen’s to protect hers. And Bog had done his best. He  _had_. But one Elf slipping unnoticed only to spread chaos doesn’t bode well in Royals. And then having them rush back to check on hurt girlfriends previously potioned by said Elf no matter what Blonde influence might sneak his way into a love addled mind, doesn’t help much either.

And yet, here he was, running through the Dark Forest, terrified out of his mind for the safety of his wonderful, perfect ray of sunshine, enduring even the way the trees round him were beginning to silhouette beneath the edging darkness of nightfall.

Oh he should  _not have been there_.

Not when the blinks and squints of eyes reflecting moons watched him from bushes, or the sounds of growls and hisses erupted by his ears, or the odd murmurings of mushrooms whispering encourages him to run faster, to beat messages that will be muddled but taken.

It takes more than just a few good kisses with a Warrior to melt a Goblin’s heart. And it will take more than just a smile to keep them from taking just revenge. And it will take more than just a hug-

“ _What_ ,” the Bog King is seething at him, Sunny still panting, chest heaving, the calls of angry shrieks resounding behind him. He’s slipped past the guards, but this time they’d been far more prepared and he’d only _just_  ducked beneath legs to find himself at the arch of the throne room door, “are  _ye_  duin’ here,  _Elf_?”

“I- I got a message…” he can’t tell if the stutter is from exertion or terror or maybe a bit of both as he looks up at the clawed, fanged beast before him. “A-about D-Dawn!”

It’s her name alone, he’s sure, that keeps him from being clobbered on the spot. Though the claws clicking a pattern down the steel of a staff aren’t looking at all  _generous_  with their mercy at that moment.

“What trick is this?”

“No!” He’s shaking his head then, desperate once the amber of a staff glints above him. “No, I did! Really! Look!” And he pulls out the parchment, holding it up for the King to take. He doesn’t. Not that information isn’t gathered. One look at the writing and he’s slumping in something near to fury, but it could have easily been something holding the smallest shreds of affection. 

Whatever it was, at least the attention was  _off_  of him.

“My  _mother_  sent for ye. Of  _course_  she did. An’ what? Did she tell ye Dawn was  _grievously injured_  or something along those lines?”

“How did you-”

“My mother tends to favor the dramatics.” The urge to point out that that particular trait had carried was strong, but Sunny merely pressed his lips together, nodding. 

“So… Dawn’s not…  _hurt_?”

“Well, her organs are neigh spilling out over the Forest floor, so I’d like to lean towards  _no_.”

He’s about to gag. About to demand against his own personal safety what that even means. But it’s the shrill cry that keeps him from doing either.

“Sunny!” 

And then she’s there, hobbling towards him, one ankle bound tight by soft shreds of moss. He doesn’t have much of a chance to say anything back. Not when she’s bending before him, hands playing a pleasant rhythm up his spine, lips tracing a perfect trail across his own. 

It is as binding as the first time, but even more so. And there are no more tears or defiance or stubborn rage. Merely her and him and a forest that he’s traveled to to make sure she still can stand before him once more.

And he’s left starry eyed when she pulls back, and the outside is darker when he realizes it’s only because she’s trapped the sun in her eyes, and forced the moon to find a home in his. “I’m so glad you’re here, Sunny-Wunny! Griselda told me she’d send for you and Boggy said that he’d have me back by tomorrow and I  _love_  it here,  _sometimes I stay the night when Marianne does_ , but I was missing you  _so much_  and oh this means we can have a sleepover! Boggy, you’ll let him stay wont you?” His face is burning, and he’s not sure what to say. 

“Uh…” is all he gets out. “You… I really don’t- uh…”

She doesn’t mind, tugging him back to her and he doesn’t put up a fuss, even though they’re in the middle of the forest and the King of the domain is standing by them while they  _kiss_. “I’m just so glad you’re here! You came all the way here for me! And Boggy won’t kick you out, right Boggy?”

“Dawn…” Sunny tries weakly, “He… he really doesn’t…”

“Of course not, Dawn. It’s far too late. And your friend won’t be traveling alone through the Forest. Not unless he has a sword hidden somewhere on him.” The Elf looks over to see if the words hold the promise of a dungeon, but can find nothing of the sort and the Bog King merely rolls his eyes. Long legs moving gracefully across a wooden floor, claws clicking a monstrous tune, he’s striding over to the both of them, and the Elf nearly flinches. But nothing happens. At least, not to him, as Bog bends to place a taloned hand between the Fae’s wings, guiding her up. “Darling, you  _really_  should be propping up that ankle. I  _told_  you to stay there. It cannot be good for it to be up and about this much.”

“I’m  _fine_ , Boggy!” The grimace of pain that follows just sends the Goblin’s brow hiking up. “I  _am_! Oh, you all worry  _too_   _much_! First it was Marianne, then my Sunny-Wunny and now you!”

“In my defense, I did get a letter that said something about you being in mortal peril,” her very confused and winded boyfriend mumbled.

“You did?”

“He did.” The Bog King tugged her up further, glancing down at her foot to check for something no one could see. “Now can you stop leaning on it before I have to carry you? I swear, don’t you  _ever_  sit still?”

Her arms found themselves twisted across her chest, a comically offended look pinching her face. “Of course I do! I’m great at it!” the Elf snorted. “I _do_!”

“Of course, Darling. Now can you  _please_  find a way to limp your way back to a bed? I’ll be most grateful if we end this incident  _without_  your sister having a panic attack.”

“She does have those, doesn’t she.” Dawn hummed thoughtfully, mind turning towards the violet winged Princess still most likely caught in a meeting and about to be reeling once she got out and received the letter. 

“More than you realize.”

“So,” Sunny panted, jogging beside them, “no mortal peril?”

“Nope!” Dawn chirped, tripping over her ankle and hissing, earning a grunt of disapproval from the Goblin towering beside them, his arms flinching as if to catch her, retreating back when she continued on without a fuss.

“Not unless you count my staff, no.” At the look he received, Bog huffed, eyes hefting skyward. “Oh do calm down. I would never have tried to  _hit her_  with it. Your darling Fairy merely decided to dance round my throne room and tripped.”

“You should have seen Boggy’s face!” She giggled, “He  _freaked out_!”

“Within reason, thank you.”

“Because you  _care about me_!”

“You’re my consorts sister. I care because I must.”

“Uh huh! Sure! Use all the big fancy language you want, Boggy! But I know it and you know it! You  _love_  me!” Sunny was sure that if the Bog King could blush any more, his head would have set aflame. Then again, the tiny smile gracing his features, secretive in its size but obvious in its meaning, only served to prove a point. Hers. 

He didn’t say much after that, toting her back to bed, putting a mound of moss beneath her ankle and asking if she’d needed anything. And when she’d replied quietly, his ears the only ones to pick it up, Sunny watched from the doorframe in stunned silence as the sharp face once more trickled a burning red up his neck, scales blooming a brilliant pink. Whatever it was she’d wanted he’d been near to refusing. But she whispered again, and there was no denying her a desire. He leaned down, his arms splayed a good distant from his sides in a discomfort that was clear as it was shaken. Something hardly as drastic as terror but far more comical that discomfort finding its way into the twist of his lip, as if the movement itself might snap him in half. 

But when she did reach up and wind around him, giving him a tiny, innocent kiss on the cheek, his body relaxed a fraction and he returned the gesture with at least a semblance of faux annoyance, his arms dwarfing her in their comparison. 

“Goodnight ye wee beastie,” he mumbled, ducking his head.

“Goodnight, Boggy! I love you!” He mumbled something else and she giggled through her teeth. 

“Feel free ta wander, Elf. Dungeons are off limits, lest you wish to spend the night there,” he warned, passing Sunny as he left the room. “Kitchens are across the castle if yee’re hungry. Stay here if you’d like. Or leave. It hardly matters to me.”

“I’ll… I’ll stay with her if that’s-” but the King was already moving away, his care as fleeting as the blush that lingered on his ears. 

So he went back, clambering atop the odd bed covered in something soft and surprisingly warm, adjusting her ankle with a few tender looks and careful touches, finally curling up beside her.

“How did you do it?” He asks at one point, almost purring as her long fingers find their way into his hair.

“Do what?”

“Tame a beast.”

She snorted. “Bog? Oh he’s always been a real softy!”

“So… you talked to him then?”

“Nope!”

“Made a trade with-”

“Uh uh.”

“Offered him your Kingdom’s-”

“ _Please_.”

“Then…”

“I just hugged him!” She shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing ever. “That’s all he really needed. Just a good hug.”

He blinked up at her, brow furrowing beneath the creases of hair still molded from a bandana now sitting innocently beside them on the nightstand. From outside an owl cooed, cicadas humming a blurred symphony along with the mid summer breezes. And yet,  _somehow_ , he felt safe. Tucked deep inside the castle walls in a room he’d never seen belonging to someone who might have either been an enemy or a casual foe, he felt oddly  _welcome_. 

Dawn looked well settled into a place that she seemed to know well: a home away from home as it were. A large bed, chests holding spare clothing, a desk, an alcove, a window streaming moonlight in excess. It was all very domestic, quaint, baring small touches of Fey that did their part to combine two worlds. Dawn must have been the one to add the mirror on the vanity. But the deep purple flowers sinking off the edges of a vase on the desk? Perhaps Marianne’s touches were as present as they were wanted.

“I’m still having trouble believing,” he mumbled, tearing his eyes away from the blooms to search out her eyes in the quickly darkening atmosphere. “that a  _hug_  can do all that. All… this I mean,” he gestured to the room, homey in its decor and terribly confusing in its occupants. An Elf an a Fairy finding a nights rest in the home of a Goblin was no simple matter, after all. 

Apparently though, for the Fey of the two, it was just that.

“Well why not!” She wound a hand through the air, “a hug got me out of a love potion, right? Yours!”

“Well… I mean… uh-”

“And a hug got my sister to be happier.”

“I  _guess_  but-”

“But nothing,” she poked his chest. “If a hug can get me out of a love potion, it can get Bog out of a pickle. When  _I_ was kidnapped the first thing I did was give Boggy a  _huge hug_. And sure, maybe he didn’t want it  _then._ And maybe it can’t solve huge wars or politics. But we’re working on those too. And I might not be able to use a sword or anything, but I think what I’ve got has served me just fine.” She sniffed proudly, shifting deeper under the covers. “In the meantime, Bog is with Marianne and they’re happy and I’m with you and guess what? I got it all with a few well timed snuggles. Now shut up and lie down with me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

 _You’re too optimistic_ , he remembers telling her once. Because being an Elf is like living in a world made of weighted dice. And being a Goblin is not having any dice at all. Simply waiting for the day where you might win, and someone throws a bone. And sometimes it feels as if sunshine has no place.

But she found her own. 

She might have been eccentric. And yes, optimistic was a word he’d use. 

But she was also smart. Smarter than he often gave her credit for. Because it was hard to see brains past a heart too big and too wide for any single person, and yet somehow made its way into her lithe body.

Dawn would always be like that, it would seem. Always be optimistic. Eccentric. Too far in a world no one would be able to reach to call her down. But she was right. Somehow, from her place above the ground, she still had the sense enough to be right about what people needed most. 

And when she curled round him, dragging herself closer, arms twisting vines across his chest, he had to admit that despite the threat of politics and a deep, dark forest and a King previously wronged and Goblins prowling, it felt right. And safe. And okay. And perhaps even perfect. 

A hug wouldn’t fix the world.

But for right then and there, it was what he needed. 

“ _I hate it when you’re right about these things_ ,” he muttered against her. “ _That’s a lie. No I don’t. But I can’t believe I’m doubting you at this point._ ” All he got back was a snore. 

Which was fine too.

And with a few more shifts of his body, he snuggled against her. 

He was made of weighted dice, yes. And the world would always be against them. And perhaps there would always be the feeling that he could never stand as tall as she. But at that moment, in her arms, her point still stood. Perhaps it wasn’t as simple as just a hug. Or maybe, just maybe, it was. 

And the Elf of Weighted Dice and the Fairy of No Grounding, slept through the night in each others arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is far from my best work, which I apologize for. But until I can get to publishing my other stuff and drabbles and reviews I have all queued up for this week (late… whoops!) then take this! Potionless with a smidgen of Butterfly Bog!)
> 
> You know what they say… better late than never?


End file.
